Picking Up The Pieces
by ZebbieCullen
Summary: Joe turns to old Morelli ways after someone close to him passes away, leaving Steph to pick up the pieces. Cupcake fic.


_A/N: Since I've written a few Babe fics, I decided to try my luck with a Cupcake fic, as I like both Joe and Ranger (but I like Ranger just a _little_ bit more). It's set before TS. Anything you recognise, I don't own. This fic is dedicated to a girl at my school who recently lost her mother._

I entered the bar and cast a casual glance around. My name is Stephanie Plum and I'm a bond enforcement agent, which is a fancy name for bounty hunter. I blackmailed by rat of cousin into giving a job three years ago. At first I was going to quit after I made enough money to pay off my rent for a few months, but the job had stuck and now I can't imagine doing anything else. As well as cleaning the streets of Trenton from crime (sort of) I do the odd distraction job for my friend's company, RangeMan. They basically involve me dressing like a slut, acting like a slut and charming the pants off of skips who have failed to appear in court out of the bar where a bunch of big men in black are waiting to escort them to the station.

I spotted the skip sitting at the front and took the seat one away from him. Ranger was acting as the bartender for the evening and was watching me intently. Ranger is often compared with Batman. He's second generation Cuban-American with mocha latte skin, dark hair, dark eyes and a darker life. He was sex on a stick, only problem is his no relationships policy. He also acts as my mentor, tormentor, supportive friend and occasional boss.

I ordered a margarita, knowing he wouldn't put much alcohol in it. I've never been known for my ability to hold my drinks. Ranger's eyes quickly moved to the side and I turned my head to find Joe Morelli sitting a few seats away, looking very tired and very drunk. Morelli and I have an on again off again romance. Right now we were _off again,_ I love Joe, but we both want different things from each other. He's 'Burg and wants to get married and have kids, whereas the thought of the altar and children scares me half to death. I wanted a man who loved me and trusted me enough not to try and force me to quit my job, like he did. It was the main reason for our _off again_ status.

I watched as he took another long pull from his beer. It was very rare to see him drunk these days. He'd had a wild youth and a rough upbringing. His father was an abusive, drunken bastard who had hit his wife and five kids, maybe that was what lead to Morelli fingering me in his garage when I was six years old. His father had died in jail some years later, during Joe's wild teen years. He joined the navy after high school and spent the next few years trying to break free of the Morelli mold. Morelli men were all drunken sex fiends who cheated on and abused their wives.

But not Joe. He was a respectable cop, and he was good at his job. He had broken the mold and I admired him for that. He still had his Italian temper and his movie star good looks, but other than that, he was a different man. So why he was drinking as heavily as he was I didn't know, I just hoped he wasn't planning on driving home.

I took a sip of the alcohol free margarita and turned my attention back to the skip I was supposed to sweet talk out of the bar. I took one look at him and felt my stomach turn. He was bald, greasy and had a beer belly; his name was Raymond Edmunds.

I accidentally on purpose dropped my purse onto his feet. "Oops, sorry," I said, reaching to pick it up.

He reached at the same time and our hands brushed against each other's. I tried to blush and pulled mine back. He smiled, his teeth a very unattractive yellow, and handed me my purse. "That's OK. What's your name?"

I gave him what I hoped was a sexy smile back. "I'm Jessica."

His cold eyes looked me up and down and then came back to my chest. The top I had chosen showed a lot of cleavage, which had obviously caught his attention. "That's a pretty name. I'm Ray," he got off his seat and moved to the one next to me. "So, what's a pretty girl like you doing out on your own."

I sighed and tried to look hurt. "Well, I was meant to have a date tonight, but it looks like the guy stood me up."

He rested a hand on my arm. "Then he's a fool and doesn't deserve such a pretty young woman."

I tired to force a blush and tossed some stray curls over my shoulder. "Thank you," I said, throwing the back of my drink. "Could you walk me to my car," I asked. "I can't walk very well in these shoes, I wouldn't want to trip."

He got off of his stool and slapped down some money for the drinks. I briefly caught Ranger's eye as he held out his arm. Thinking I should ask for a raise, I reluctantly took it and we left the bar. Lester and Bobby, two of Ranger's band of Merry Men, slapped a pair of handcuffs around Edmunds' wrists and shoved him into the back of a black SUV. My job was done.

I felt the hairs on my neck stand up, the way they always do when he's around. "Proud of you, Babe."

I turned around and smiled, my senses overwhelmed by the smell of Bulgari and male. "You need a ride home?" he asked. "I could have Hal drop your car off in the morning."

Out of the corner of my eye I saw Joe stagger out of the door and unlock his car. My God, he was going to drive home. He could barely walk yet alone get behind the wheel. "That's OK," I said to Ranger. "I think Morelli may need a little help getting home."

"I thought you broke up."

I nodded, "We did, but I don't want him hurting anyone."

He reached out and tucked a stray curl behind my ear. "I'll mail you the check. Call me if you have any problems with the cop."

I thanked him and turned around before he had a chance to kiss me like he always did after distraction jobs, knowing that I probably wouldn't be able to stop. The man was irresistible.

"Hey, Joe," I called, walking up to him.

He looked at me and smiled the smile that had helped relieve me of my virginity when I was sixteen. His dark hair hung over his face and, as usual, needed to be cut, the paper thin scar across his eyebrow barely visible through his long bangs. He reeked of alcohol and smoke from the bar. "Hey Cupcake."

"Need a ride?"

"I got it," he slurred, reaching for the door handle and missing.

"Joe, you're a cop, you can't go around drinking under influence," I tried to reason. "You'll get into trouble and you could hurt someone. Let me take you home."

He protested, but finally I was able to get him into my car. I slipped the key into the ignition and pulled out of the parking lot. Morelli lived in a house on Slater Street that he had inherited from his Aunt Rose, which he shared with his dog, Bob, and occasionally shared with me. By the time we got to his house he was out cold. I poked him and tried to get him to wake up, but he was dead to the world.

Sighing, I debate whether or not to call Ranger, then decided against it. Morelli would kill me if Ranger saw him like this. I found the key to his house that I had never given back to him after we broke up and unlocked the front door. Bob came running out and almost knocked me on my ass. I had missed Bob, but not in the way Joe wanted. I picked up his leash and quickly took him out to tinkle.

I dragged Morelli out of my car and slung his arm across my shoulders. He was mostly muscle and weighted more than I did. I was able to get him through the front door, but I didn't even attempt to get him up the stairs, so I put him on the couch and took off his shoes. I wrote him a quick note and locked up behind me.

---

I woke up the next morning later than I would have liked. I showered, shaved, applied make-up and tied my wild hair into a half-assed ponytail. I found a pair of jeans that looked clean and a V-neck jumper. I unlocked the door to my mini and drove to McDonalds to get Morelli a coke and large fries. I had to go and pick up some clothes that I had left at his house and couldn't very well go without bringing him the Cure for the hangover I was sure he was going to have. Because I had gone running with Ranger the other morning, I ended up ordering an Egg Muffin for myself as I had skipped breakfast and brought one for Bob to.

I caught Joe just as he was leaving. His hair was sticking up at odd angles, he had bags under his eyes and he looked like he hadn't bothered to change.

"Hey," I smiled brightly and handed him the bag. "I brought you the Cure. No offence, but you look like you need it."

He shook his head and walked straight passed me. "You OK?"

Joe sighed and ran a hand through his messy hair; his eyes cold compared to the usual warm chocolate brown. "I don't have time for this right now, Stephanie," not Cupcake, not Steph. It's never good when he uses my full name when we're not in the bedroom.

I narrowed my eyes. "No need to yell."

"I wasn't yelling. Why are you here?"

I looked around and round Bob's head in the McDonalds bag and mentally sighed. He was chewing on the bag; the dog will eat _anything._ "I just…I just came to pick up the last of my stuff," I said, my eyes studying the floor.

Someone honked a horn from outside and Morelli took his shirt off and replaced it with a clean one. I couldn't help sneaking a glance at his excellent washboard abs when he wasn't looking. Just because we weren't together anymore didn't mean I couldn't look.

He picked up his gun and slipped it under the waistband of his jeans. "Just be quick and lock up when you're done," he walked out of the door without even saying goodbye and got into the front of the cop car next to Big Dog.

I shrugged it off and just assumed that he was hung over and pissed off about having to go to work. After all I hadn't done anything to annoy him lately. I hadn't blown up any cars or rolled in garbage recently, and I had been stalker free for months. Shaking my head, I went up the stairs and stuffed my clothes into my duffel bag.

Bob barked at me as I tried to leave. I knew it wasn't a good idea to leave him home alone, so I wrote Joe another note and took the big orange dog to my parents' house for the day, my dad loved the male company, even if he did drool and have a tail. Bob, I mean.

My mother and grandmother were waiting for me at the door as usual, their relative radar obviously on high alert.

"Stephanie, I need your opinion," said Grandma Mazur as I stepped through the door. "The pants or the skirt? Which makes me look hotter?"

She was wearing black, tight leather pants and holding an impossibly small mini-skirt in her hand. My mother shook her head in despair.

"Why?" I asked, not really wanting to choose either.

"Because I need something that will make Grandma Bella look like she crawled out of a Dumpster."

Grandma Bella had been less than kind ever since I broke up with her favourite grandson. Again.

I walked into the kitchen and found my mother casting a glance at the iron. "I need a favour," I said.

Mom went to the fridge and took out some carrots and peas, obviously preparing for dinner. "What do you need," she stopped and looked at me. "Wait, you didn't wreck another car did you? Lauren Martinez' daughter never blows up cars, she's had the same car since college."

Lauren Martinez' daughter had only been out of college for five months, but still, I had crashed my car ten days after I left. "Don't worry," I quickly said. "I didn't blow up another car, I just need someone to look after Bob while Joe and I work."

She crossed herself. "Oh that poor man. You really should settle down with him Stephanie, he's changed you know."

I nodded and tuned her out. I was so sick of hearing her go on about how I should marry Morelli. Grandma Mazur, who had changed into the mini-skirt, walked into the living room. My dad, who was sitting in front of the TV, nearly jumped off his chair at the sight of her and mumbled something about a crazy old bat and indecent clothes. My mother sighed. "Tell you what, I'll look after Bob for the day if you take your grandmother to a viewing tonight."

"Deal," I said, thinking of the triple chocolate chip cookies that Scooter and Dave often make that melt on your tongue. I got up and went to find Grandma Mazur. "I'm taking you to the viewing tonight, what time do you want me to pick you up?"

"Better be six," she said.

I looked at my watch; I still had enough time to chase a few skips. "Who's being laid out?"

She waited for several seconds before she answered me. "Tony Morelli."

I gasped in shock. Tony was Joe's older brother; Joe was the youngest of his siblings. My God, no wonder he'd been in such a bad mood earlier. I mean, Valerie annoyed me sometimes, but I couldn't ever imagine her not being around one day. I didn't know what Joe's relationship with his brother was like, but I knew they weren't on bad terms with each other. No wonder he was drinking last night.

"How did he die?" I choked out.

"Drink driving accident," said Grandma with a shake of her head. "Such a shame, he was a hunk as well."

"Grandma!" I cried, outraged that she would say that. I didn't know Tony that well; he was senior when I was a freshman at high school, but I'd met him at family get-togethers when Joe and I were dating and he seemed nice. For a Morelli. "How could say that? A man is dead; Joe's brother."

"There's nothing I can do about it," she had a point.

I said goodbye to Bob and left my parents' house. I was surprised I hadn't heard the news through the 'Burg, but I guessed Joe had the power to hush it up. I tried ringing his cell phone, but got his voicemail: _"Your reached Joe Morelli, I'm sorry I can't take your call right now, so leave your name and number and I'll get back to you."_

Parking in front of the bonds' office, I got out of my car and waved hello to Connie and Lula.

"Yo white girl," said Lula, pushing a half-empty box of doughnuts in front of me. I took a jelly centred one and took a bite.

"Morning," I smiled and sat down on the couch. "Anyone skip recently?"

Connie pushed a file towards me. "Only Mooner."

I mentally groaned. He must have forgotten again. "Want to ride shotgun?" I asked Lula. Today she was wearing a pair of shocking pink hot pants and tube top that clashed with her red hair.

"No way," she shook her head, her braids tossing around. "Last time we went to pick him up we had to sit through four hours of _Star Trek_."

I looked at my watch and realised that if I left now I could avoid another sci-fi marathon, so I took another doughnut and said goodbye to the girls.

---

By the time six o'clock rolled around, Mooner had been rebonded and had his court date rescheduled. It had only taken a pizza and half an hour of _Gilligan's Island_, so I decided to see if Joe was around when I got to the station. Eddie Gazzara said that he was investigating a shooting on Stark Street, so I drove home.

I dug around my closet for a few minutes and eventually found a black dress suit. I applied a few more coats of mascara for confidence and drove to my parents' house. Luckily, there was going to be an open casket, so we shouldn't have any problems there. I was dreading seeing the Morelli family there, they'd probably find it disrespectful for me to be there without dating Joe.

"Watch her!" my mother whispered, meaning Grandma Mazur, as we left. "And give my love to Angie Morelli, that poor woman," she crossed herself and I said goodbye.

Tony Morelli shared his little brother's stunning looks and Scooter and Dave had done a brilliant job making them stand out. I felt my eyes well up with tears when I saw him, he was only thirty-five. I looked around for Joe, but couldn't see him anywhere.

Grandma was off talking to one of her friends from the beauty parlour about some new push up bra she was thinking of buying. Shaking the mental image out of my head I sat at the back in a Ranger-like pose, giving myself a clear view of the room.

I waited for two hours. Morellis cried and grieved, people comforted them, Grandma Bella put the eye on half a dozen people, but Joe was a no show. I tried to call him, but there was no signal, so I took Grandma Mazur home and drove to Slater Street.

Joe had inherited an old fashion house from his Aunt Rose. He had previously owned a typical inhabited-by-a-single-guy apartment. His car was parked on the curb, so I guessed he was home, so why hadn't he been at the viewing? His mother had been Furious, with a capital F, that he'd missed it.

I knocked several times, but when I got no answer, I reached into the pocket of my jeans and pulled out my keys, using the one he had given me to unlock the door. It was late, but all the lights were off. "Joe?" I called out, but got no answer again.

Bob was asleep on the floor, snoring softly, his shaggy orange fur covering his eyes. Like his owner, he needed a haircut. I looked into the living room, but couldn't find Joe anywhere. There was a faint smell of alcohol coming from the kitchen, but there was no light coming from under the closed door. I called his name again and turned the handle.

He was sitting at the table, a glass bottle in front of him and an empty one next to him. He was obviously drunk. I slowly walked up to him, slightly unsure of what to do. He flinched when I rested a hand on his shoulder. "Joe?" I whispered. "It's me."

"Hey, Cupcake," he slurred and took a swig from the bottle. "What are you doing here?" he asked.

"Looking for you, where have you been?"

He looked confused, his chocolate brown eyes narrowed at me. "Whadaya mean?"

"I know about Tony," I said, trying to get my eyes to focus in the dark. "I'm so sorry."

He was silent for what felt like hours, so I did what I could to fill in the silence. "I've just come from the funeral home."

He shrugged and took another swig from the bottle. "Where were you? You mother is going to kill you."

"I'm her favourite son," he said.

I sighed. "How could you not be there for your brother's…" I trailed off, feeling guilty for having a go at him. It couldn't be easy for him. "They're burying the body tomorrow. You should go."

He shook his head. I wished he'd say something. I gave his shoulder a squeeze. "I'll go with you if you want."

Again he shook his head, his long – well, long for a guy – hair falling over his face, shielding his eyes from view. "Joe, he's your _brother_, your big brother. You can't _not_ go."

"He _was_ my brother, Steph. Was."

"What are you going to? Sit here all day and night and then get kicked out of your house because you don't have any money. Because doing that won't bring him back."

"Don't you think I know that!" he snapped. I jumped slightly, but I don't think he notice. It was then that I got the feeling I wasn't talking to the Joe I knew and, even thought I wouldn't admit it out loud, loved. I was talking to a drunken Morelli, a shadow of his former self.

He took another swig from the bottle and I tried to pull it away. "Joe, Tony died in a drink driving accident. Do you really want the same thing to happen to you."

"Tony wasn't the one who was drunk. That's just what everyone thinks. It was the driver that hit him that was drunk," he slurred. "They ran tests, there was no alcohol in my brother's blood," he insisted.

I nodded, but wasn't sure if he was telling the truth. "Still, is this any way to pay your respects to him?"

"I'm a grown man, Cupcake. I can do what I want."

I tired to catch his eyes, but he kept avoiding my gaze and swigging from the bottle that was now almost empty. "Look at yourself. Your drunk, you wearing the same shirt from yesterday and you look like your haven't shaved in days."

"So, so, I haven't," he answered each of the points I made.

I glared at him. "What do you mean 'so'?" I said, waving my arms slightly. "_So_, this isn't who you are Joe. This is who you used to be."

He got up; I could see he was having a hard time keeping his balance. "Leave me alone."

I stood my ground. "No," I simply said. "Give me the bottle," I tried to take if off him but he pushed me away. "Do you really want this?" I asked him. "Your turning back into something that you've worked so hard to break free of. You and I both know that if you keep drinking that stuff you'll become an addict again, just like in high school. Then the drugs will come along and you'll become what you tried so hard to avoid. A typical Morelli man."

I watched as my words sunk in. I saw emotion flash in his eyes, so I carried on. "I'm not going to let you give up everything you've worked so hard for, for so long. You're a great cop, Joe. Do you really want to jeopardise that? You own a big house on a nice street, a dog and friends and family who care for you. I'm not going to let all of your hard work be for nothing!"

I took a deep breath to calm myself down. He slowly looked at the bottle in his hand and extended it towards me. I cautiously took it from him and, before he could protest, I poured the remains down the drain. He sank to the floor and I kneeled in front of him, taking his face in my hands.

Hesitantly, I pressed a gentle kiss to his lips. I felt him begin to relax and pulled back. "I'll help you, Joe. I promise. But if you don't go to that burial, you will regret it for the rest of your life. Trust me, I didn't go to my grandfather's funeral because I didn't think I could either and I've never forgiven myself for it. I'll be right there next to you," I all but whispered. "I'm not saying it will be easy or it won't hurt, but it'll help."

He stared at the floor for a moment. Maybe it would be better to talk to him about this when he was sober.

"Alright," he finally said, still slurring slightly. "I'll go."

_Liked it? Hated it? Let me know. Thanks for reading!_


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